Harsh Reality
by Lavenderangel
Summary: When Doug Witter is killed, his father deals with his emotions by taking them out on his remaining son, who is struggling to cope with his brother's death as well. P/A, contains character death and possible child abuse in later parts.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Harsh Reality  
Part 1: Shattered Perfection  
Author: Lala  
Rating: PG  
Summary: When Doug Witter is killed, his father deals with it by taking his emotions out on his remaining son, who is struggling to cope with his brother's untimely death as well.  
Category: Pacey/Andie  
Spoilers: Most of season 2, set just after 212. Also, Jack and Joey are still together, and so (possibly) are Dawson and Jen. If these couples are mentioned, it will be very brief.  
Author's notes: This fic is rated for a character death, and both physical and mental abuse. I know that the idea of Pacey being abused is very overdone, but I thought that he needed some angst in his life, so you'll have to live with it.  
Disclaimer: Dawson's Creek's characters do not in anyway belong to me. I've also changed John Witter's characterization slightly and made him more violent, so forgive me for that.  
  
--  
  
His hands trembled as he walked over to the row of pay phones outside the ER waiting room. His original intent had been to get a soda, but he suddenly needed to hear her voice.  
  
He didn't care that it was 3 in the morning, he needed some reassurance. He needed a reminder that there were people who actually cared about him. People who loved him.  
  
He put the correct amount of money in, but it took him quite a few tries to dial the right number. His hands continued to tremble, as did the rest of him. He could only pray that his voice would not do the same.  
  
"Hello," their answering machine picked up after a few wrings, and Jack's voice filled his ears. "You've reached the McPhee residence. None of us are able to take your call at this time, but if you leave your name and number after the tone, we'll be sure to get back to you."  
  
There was a short pause, before a shrill beep was heard. Pacey took in a deep breath, before speaking.  
  
"Hey, Andie… it's me. Look, I'm at the hospital, Dougie - my brother's been shot. Don't come I just… I just called to tell you where I was in case you were wondering or something."  
  
Unexpected emotions surged through him, and his throat constricted. The thing which he'd been fighting against on and off for the passed hour threatened to overcome him, and he quickly finished his message, his voice unsteady. "Well, I'll call you later, bye."  
  
He hung up the phone, and stared hard at it for a few seconds, not really seeing it. Tears pricked his eyes, and he tried desperately to regain control.  
  
At last he made his way back into the waiting room, expression unreadable, eyes slightly red. He slumped down into a chair, memories of his brother assaulting him.  
  
He and Doug had never been especially close, but Pacey had always sort of looked up to him in a way.   
Doug was the perfect one, the one his father loved. Pacey would have given anything to be like his brother, to have his father love him too. To have any of his family members love him, for that matter.  
  
He glanced over at the door leading to the ICU. Doug was in there, and Pacey was terrified he might never see his brother alive again.  
  
--  
  
John Witter's footsteps echoed across the room as he paced restlessly.  
  
He'd been here for hours, doing his incessant pacing for almost the entire time.  
  
Abruptly the hospital door flew open, and a white faced teen entered. He was instantaneously captivated by her sparkling blue eyes, and golden hair. For a few seconds, John forgot that he had a wife and that he was in his late forties. The girl's shout brought him sharply back to reality, and he watched as she rushed passed him.  
  
"Pacey!" John blinked in surprise and glanced at the row of plastic chairs. He'd nearly forgotten his youngest son in his worry, and with the arrival of the stunning girl, he'd forgotten he even existed.  
  
"McPhee, what are you doing here?" Pacey's head jerked up from where he'd been staring at the white wall in front of him, to stare in surprise at the blonde who was now standing over him. John continued to watch them, bemused. How had his screw up of a son gotten himself a girl like that?  
  
"Pacey, did you honestly think that I would sit at home, waiting for you to call?" Her voice had lowered significantly in volume, her tone becoming less frantic.  
  
"You shouldn't be here," was Pacey's reply, though he didn't look as though he meant it.  
  
John watched in disgust as Pacey rose and embraced the girl, and kissed her briefly. As they drew apart, the girl caught sight of him for the first time it seemed.  
  
"Oh," she said, her eyes focused on him, "hello Mr. Witter."  
  
Pacey looked up, and as John made eye contact with his son, he saw him flinch and move closer towards the girl.  
  
"This is Andie McPhee, Dad." Pacey said shortly, before turning away.  
  
Andie turned back to Pacey, and John lost interest in their conversation. He resumed his pacing, worry for his son only being part of his concern.  
  
If Doug died, then whom would he hand the job of sheriff to? Certainly not his screw up of a kid, Pacey. If Pacey were sheriff, the town would be falling apart in a matter of minutes. Stupid boy couldn't even get a good grade on a test. Worthless, good-for-nothing…  
  
Blonde hair brushed passed him, causing him to return to reality.  
  
He looked up in surprise. Pacey and his Girlfriend, Anne something were walking hand-in-hand out the door.  
  
"Where are you going?" He practically spat at their retreating backs.  
  
"To the cafeteria," Pacey replied, his grip tightening on Andie's hand.  
  
John didn't respond, and after a pause, the couple left.  
  
--  
  
Andie McPhee sipped her coke as she watched Pacey pick at his ham sandwich.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked finally, causing Pacey to look up.  
  
He let out a sigh, but still didn't speak.  
  
"There's not much to tell," he said finally. "I came home from our date and went to bed. My dad came home a couple of hours later I guess. The phone rang sometime later, and I answered it." His voice shook slightly, and Andie was strongly reminded of the night of their first date, when she'd told him the story of Tim's death. She pleaded silently that this story wouldn't end the same way.  
  
She watched Pacey sadly in the silence that followed. Finally, he cleared his throat.  
  
"It was Doug's partner on the phone. He explained they'd been chasing some guy -- he stole some beer or something -- and… and the guy shot at them… Dougie was hit in the chest."  
  
Andie sucked in her breath and winced. She reached out and touched Pacey's arm, saying nothing. Neither spoke for a time. The ice melted in Andie's coke, and the bread on Pacey's sandwich got soggier and soggier.  
  
"You wanna go back?" Andie inquired finally, standing up and taking one last halfhearted sip of her by now watery coke.  
  
Pacey nodded, and picked up his barely touched sandwich.  
  
--  
  
John's watch read 9:30AM.  
  
6 hours.  
  
He'd been here for 6 hours and still no news on Doug's condition. It didn't look good, he knew that.  
  
Pacey and Andie had returned nearly two hours ago. He glanced over to where they were sitting, and saw that Pacey was nearly asleep on Andie's shoulder. Andie herself was watching him sadly, lost in thought. She had her arm around him, and was absently rubbing her hand soothingly up and down his arm. John glared silently at them.  
  
The love between the two of them was almost palpable and it made him sick to his stomach.  
  
Why did his excuse for a son get the good chick? And she actually cared about him! How could anybody care about that worthless peace of junk?  
  
"Mr. Witter?" The quiet voice of a nurse caused both men to jump. John looked away from the couple, and Pacey sat up quickly. All three were watching the nurse, and the young woman bit her lip. This wasn't going to be easy, it never was.  
  
"Mr. Witter," she continued quietly, "I'm very sorry… your son passed away 2 minutes ago."  
  
--  
  
Anger.  
  
Pure anger.  
  
No, not anger.  
  
Rage. An uncontrollable rage.  
  
It boiled inside him, almost seeming to possess him.  
  
He could no longer hear the nurse's words, could no longer see the waiting room.  
  
His son was dead.  
  
His son, who was actually good at something, who had actually had a chance at becoming something, was dead.  
  
And his worthless nothing of a son wasn't.  
  
His anger surged out in a glare so menacing, so threatening, it would have made a grown man back down.  
  
He glared long and hard at Pacey, his rage and hatred clear.  
  
Pacey didn't seem to notice he was listening to the nurse with pain-filled eyes.  
  
But the blonde beside him did.  
  
And she returned John's glare, her eyes blazing with hatred.  
  
[A/N  
Ooh, Andie's mad. Has Andie ever been mad? Hmmm…  
  
Anyway, please review! I live for feedback. Review, quick! It's getting hard to breathe…] 


	2. Trying to Console

Part 2: Trying to console  
  
[A/N  
This part was harder to write, but here it is. I'm trying to keep 'em in character…]  
  
Andie McPhee could only watch as Pacey Witter disappeared into the hospital room, to have one last look at his brother, slightly behind his father. The last 15 minutes had been a painful blur. She hadn't been able to speak to Pacey since the arrival of the nurse, which she was slightly glad of.  
  
She didn't know what to say. She'd looked at him while the nurse had been talking. She'd looked into his pain-filled eyes and hadn't known what to do. She wanted desperately to take that pain away from him, but she didn't know how. He'd already been through so much… all of them had.  
  
Andie's thoughts abruptly changed to his father. Pacey obviously had a hard time with his him. Even if he hadn't told her this some time before, she would have been able to figure it out just by the little interaction they'd had that morning.  
  
She remembered the way his father had been looking at Paceywhile the nurse had been explaining the details of Doug's death, and all compassion left her, being replaced by a boiling rage.  
  
His father had been staring at Pacey with the UT-most hatred.  
  
Andie celdum got angry, and didn't recall a time when she'd felt real, unadulterated hatride towards someone, but that's how she felt about Pacey's father.  
  
Pacey was a sweet, lovable guy, who only wanted to please his family and have his father think of him as more than a complete screw up, and John Witter clearly hated his son's very existence.  
  
This made Andie mad - no, more then mad. She felt a burning anger so strong for John Witter that words couldn't come close to describing it.  
  
The door to Doug Witter's hospital room opened abruptly, and Pacey emerged. His eyes were wide, and he looked as though he was going to be sick.  
  
"Are you okay?" Her anger dissipated at the sight of him, and she moved to stand beside him. She already knew the answer to her question, but she still asked it.  
  
He opened his mouth as though to say something, and then simply shook his head. He turned to look at her, and his eyes were those of a small child in search of his mother, looking for consolation, for shelter from the storm, for protection and love.  
  
Andie wondered briefly where Pacey's mother was, but decided it didn't really matter for the moment.  
  
She reached out and put her arms around him. He was rigid in her embrace for a moment, before letting his head slump against her shoulder, and his body lean against hers for support. She tried to let her love and compassion flow into her embrace, saying nothing but feeling beyond comprehention.  
  
They stood like that for a few moments, both lost in thought. The door to Doug's room opened again and John Witter stormed out.  
  
"Pacey, he growled the word, "what did you-" He stopped abruptly as he saw Pacey and Andie.  
  
They pulled apart, and both looked at John with different emotions.  
  
Pacey's eyes were filled with a fearful sadness, whereas the hate had returned to Andie's in full force. She didn't want that man anywhere near Pacey, ever again.  
  
Finally, Andie turned to Pacey and spoke quietly. "You want to come over for a while? Or would you rather go home and get some sleep? You really look like you could use some." She didn't want him to go home, because she knew that that was most likely where his father was going, but she suggested it anyway, if it would help him  
  
He looked away from his father and back at her, relief in his eyes. He reached out and took her hand, holding it tightly, for comfort and for both their protection. "I'll come over," he said quietly.  
  
--  
  
Joey Potter looked up from the television as the front door of the McPhee house opened. Jack McPhee looked up as well and muted the TV, to Joey's relief. Sunday morning TV really did suck.  
  
The two watched as Pacey and Andie entered the living room.  
  
"Where'd you go off to so early?" Jack asked Andie, but Joey's eyes were on Pacey.  
  
In all the years she'd known him, she'd never seen him quite like this. His expression looked lost, his eyes full of unmasked pain. There were dark circles under them, and he looked as though he hadn't slept in days.  
  
"Whoa, Witter," she said after a shocked pause, "who died?"  
  
Jack and Andie's conversation stopped abruptly, and Andie shot her a look. Joey blinked, confused. Had she said something wrong?  
  
"My brother," Pacey responded quietly, and Joey's jaw dropped.  
  
"I… I'm sorry Pace," she said after yet another pause, getting up and touching his shoulder. This was probably the most compassion Joey had ever shown towards Pacey, and he managed a small and obviously forced smile of thanks.  
  
"Thanks Jo," he murmured quietly, the trembling of his voice noticed by all.  
  
"Let's go upstairs," Andie murmered to Pacey, and they left with out another word from any of the teens.  
  
--  
  
Pacey had been in Andie's room quite a few times before, but this seemed different. He lay back on her wonderfully soft bed, her bedspread smooth against his cheek.  
  
He sighed quietly, wishing he could forget the events of the last hour. He glanced at the halfway open bathroom door, Andie's back just visible to him.  
  
Somehow, thinking of Andie made him think of Doug as well. The image of Doug's unmoving body and icy skin flashed into his mind, and the realization seemed to hit him like an electric shock.  
  
His brother was dead.  
  
His brother, the only member of his family who he'd ever really cared about and who might have cared about him at times was dead.  
  
He'd heard it too many times in the passed hour, even said it aloud once. It hadn't seemed to hit him until now, but it suddenly felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach.  
  
When Andie walked out of the bathroom a few moments later, her eyes fell on the figure curled up on her bed. Pacey suddenly looked so small lying there. Quietly, she walked over and lay down beside him.  
  
His eyes were half closed, and he was staring off into space.  
  
Andie's hand brushed against Pacey's, and he turned strangely overbright eyes to look at her.  
  
In the 6 months she'd known Pacey, she'd seen him show quite a few emotions. But she'd never seen him cry.  
  
But now, she watched silently as first one tear and then another trickled down his cheeks.  
  
He could feel her eyes on him, and tried to move away. He moved to stand, the hot tears blinding him.  
  
A few seconds later, Andie stood as well. "Pacey," she spoke quietly, "come here."  
  
He kept his back to her, refusing to let her see the tears that stung his eyes and clouded his vision.  
  
He was unable to reply except for a shake of his head as he drew in an unsteady breath in an attempt to regain some semblance of control.  
  
"Pace," Andie spoke again, her tone quiet yet firm, "come here."  
  
She touched his shoulder, and he slowly turned around as another tear slid down his cheek.  
  
Soft fingers brushed his face as Andie gently wiped it away, acting like the mother he'd always wanted but never had.  
  
"It just hit me, you know?" His voice was a broken whisper, as he tried with out success to stop the tears, which streaked his cheeks and were cold and salty on his lips.  
  
Andie didn't know what to say to that, but her heart ached for him.  
  
"I mean," Pacey continued, "we weren't even all that close. He hated me, for heaven's sake. But… I just feel…"  
  
He broke off, his lower lip beginning to tremble. More tears formed, the small droplets falling silently down his cheeks, splashing on Andie's hand, which still cupped his face tenderly.  
  
Andie didn't think, simply acted. She reached out and embraced Pacey for the third time that morning, pulling his head down on her shoulder. A mix between a whimper and a strangled sob escaped his lips as his tears began in Ernest.  
  
He clung to her as though she was the only thing keeping him alive, the pain that he'd been feeling all morning finally being fully exposed.  
  
"Shh," she soothed gently. "It'll be okay, Pace. Shh…"  
  
Somehow, she managed to move them both back onto the bed, and she lay on her side, holding Pacey close against her, his tears soaking her shirt as his ragid sobs shook them both.  
  
Eventually his tears ceased and he laid in her arms, exhausted both emotionally and physically. The room was silent save for Pacey's breathing, which was loud and shaky.  
  
He opened his mouth to speak, and then changed his mind.  
  
He kissed her, his lips slick and salty with tears. They lay there kissing each other for a few minutes, until Pacey's exhaustion finally took over and he fell into a restless sleep, calmed slightly by Andie's presense and gentle embrace.  
  
Andie wiped at her own eyes as she gave Pacey's hand a little squeeze. It made her heart break to see him in pain like that.  
  
Slowly, as not to wake him, she slid him out of her arms and stood up.  
  
Walking over to her closet, she pulled out a wool blanket and laid it over Pacey.  
  
Walking into the bathroom once again, she washed her face and then returned to her bedroom. She didn't want Pacey to know she'd been crying, but it just reminded her so much of Tim's death…  
  
Stop that, she told herself sharply. You can't be feeling sorry for yourself now, Pacey needs you.  
  
She sat down next to Pacey and took his hand in hers. She ran her finger over his palm absently, listening to his shaky breathing, and noting the tear stains on his face.  
  
Sometime later, the bedroom door opened. Jack stuck his head in, Joey just behind him.  
  
"How is he?" Joey asked in a whisper, walking into the room with Jack.  
  
"How are you?" Jack asked of his sister, both their voices filled with concern.  
  
"I'm all right," she told him, making sure to keep her voice low, and strong.  
  
"Dawson just called," Joey said, a slight note of bitterness in her voice at mention her x's name, "Jack told him what happened. Jen knows, too."  
  
Andie nodded, barely listening. She sniffed. "He's asleep now," she said, squeezing Pacey's hand. He moved closer to her slightly, and Andie bent down, kissing his cheek as she attempted to hide her tears.  
  
"We'll be downstairs if you need anything," Jack told her, and the other two left the room.  
  
Andie lay down beside Pacey, draping her arm over his waste and closing her eyes.  
  
She soon fell asleep, holding Pacey close.  
  
---  
  
Pacey's body jerked, waking both Andie and himself.  
  
For a few moments he was confused to his surroundings, and to why he had been asleep in the middle of the morning, but then the events of the previous night came back sharply.  
  
"Are you okay?" Andie's voice was soft, and she sat up on her bed.  
  
"Sort of," he said truthfully, sitting up as well.  
  
She reached out and put her arms around him, not really sure if she wanted to give him comfort or ask for it herself.  
  
"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice muffled by her hair.  
  
"I will be," she reassured him.  
  
He raised his head and looked down, his eyes apologetic. "I know this must be hard on you, too."  
  
She held him tighter, and spoke softly, a small smile on her angelic face.  
  
"Don't worry about me," she told him, her voice both firm and gentle. "I'll be okay. You just try to get through this, all right? And when you need someone… I'll be here."  
  
"Always?"  
  
"Always."  
  
"Thanks… so will I."  
  
"I thought so."  
  
Their voices had become softer as their faces drew closer.  
  
After Andie's last statement, their lips finally touched in a kiss so full of emotion that it was almost painful in its intensity.  
  
---  
  
About an hour later, the doorbell rang. Pacey and Andie came down from where they had been exchanging stories about Doug and Tim respectively. Both their faces were tearstained, but they were smiling.  
  
"Hey," Jack was saying to Dawson. Jen was just behind him, as was Joey with Jack.  
  
Dawson and Joey avoided making eye contact, and Jack and Jen exchanged a nervous glance, sensing the tension between their friends.  
  
"Hey, guys," Pacey said from the bottom of the stairs.  
  
All 4 teens turned to face Pacey and Andie, who stood watching them hand-in-hand.  
  
"Hey, man," Dawson greeted hesitantly. "I'm real sorry…"  
  
Pacey nodded, exchanging a look with Andie.  
  
"Get used to it," she said. "I'm sorry never helps the pain go away, but everyone says it anyway."  
  
"Nope," Jen agreed, walking towards them. "Never does."  
  
She reached out and abruptly hugged Pacey, breaking his and Andie's hands apart.  
  
It wasn't as awkward as he'd expected, and he returned the embrace, smelling her perfume and feeling the dampness of her hair against his cheek.  
  
"How you holding up?" She asked softly, rubbing his back.  
  
"Living," he said honestly, leaning his face into her hair.  
  
"Hang in there," she murmured, drawing back.  
  
He managed a weak smile as they broke apart completely. "Will do," he promised, his eyes straying back to Andie. 'And she'll help me,' he thought, an immense feeling of gratitude and warmth filling his heart as he saw Andie looking back at him.  
  
Author's notes:  
I'm sorry this has taken so long! Scarily enough, last night I was considering deleting this fic for good and sticking with writing Smallville fics. Then I looked through the Dawson's Creek section, and seeing that mine was the only P/A fic for aaages, I decided I couldn't.  
  
I don't now when the next part will be up, but it'll most likely contain child abuse… and more crying Pacey!  
  
Oh, and that last part between Jen and Pacey was just suppose to be andI know how you feel' scene. Jen and Pacey have a sweet friendship in my opinion and can really relate to each other a lot in certain things.  
  
Anyway, please review!  
  
Thanks bunches!  
  
Bunches? Since when do I say 'bunches?' Freaky… I need sleep… and more P/A. ::Nudges readers:: Get busy writing! 


	3. Part 3: The Aftereffects of Death

Part Three: The aftereffects of death  
  
When Pacey returned home late Sunday evening, it was to find his father at the kitchen table, making funeral arrangements.  
  
"Where have you been?" His voice was filled with anger, and he did not look the slightest bit remorseful at the task he was doing. Alcohol was strong on his breath, and a mixture of anger and pain welled up inside Pacey. His brother was dead and his father was drunk.  
  
"I was at the McPhee's," Pacey responded, turning to go upstairs. He shouldn't; couldn't face his father like this.  
  
"Your brother dies and you go off to do who knows what with your girlfriend? How will that look to the town? Sheriff's son dies and younger, already pathetic son doesn't give a care."  
  
It felt like he'd been punched in the face. Wordlessly he turned away, heading for the stairs, forcing himself to ignore his father.  
  
Which he found out was the wrong thing to do about ten seconds later.  
  
He wasn't aware his father could move that fast, but suddenly he was beside Pacey, holding his shoulder in a painful grip. In one sharp movement he'd turned Pacey back to face him, and stared at him with cold distaste.  
  
"You're the worst excuse for a son possible, but you will show respect when talking to me." With each word his grip seemed to grow tighter, voice low, and too calm.  
  
Pacey said nothing. He didn't know what to say. All he knew was that he had to get away before his father's anger heightened any further or there would be real trouble which he just couldn't handle right now.  
  
His father appeared to be having the same problem. He simply stared at Pacey, eyes burning, fingers digging into his youngest son's flesh almost like needles, alcohol pumping through his bloodstream.  
  
"Get out of my sight," he finally spat, looking at Pacey as though he were a particularly disgusting insect.  
  
Pacey quickly obliged, barely noticing at his father released him.  
  
---  
  
Monday morning only served to deepen the pain that Doug's death had caused.  
  
When he walked into school, the hall around him seemed to go deadly silent. Thousands of eyes it seemed were staring at him from all directions, and then the whispering started.  
  
He tried to ignore them all and simply walked towards his locker. His path was blocked a few seconds later as one of the cheerleaders appeared out of nowhere in front of him.  
  
"Pacey, right?" As this time last year he would've been thrilled at the prospect of actually talking to a cheerleader, but today he'd rather be doing anything else.  
  
"Yeah," he mumbled in response to her question, looking around for an escape. Behind him and to his left and right, were groups of whispering kids, watching him with interest and blocking any hope of him leaving.  
  
"I just wanted to say," the cheerleader's name he still didn't know continued, "How sorry I am. My great grandfather died like 10 years ago and I…"  
  
He nodded curtly, a gesture extremely out of character for him. Despite the fact that he was dating Andie, he doubted he would turn down a conversation with a cheerleader.  
  
But he didn't want to talk about this.  
  
Not now, while the wound was so fresh and painful… And by her mentioning the word 'died' it was like tearing off the microscopic scab that had started to form and exposing the pain all over again.  
  
"Umm…" she stammered, backing away slightly.  
  
"Thanks a lot, I… really… appreciate it but… I've got to… get my books."  
  
She moved aside, eyes apologetic. She didn't actually care did she? He couldn't think about it right now.  
  
He pushed passed her and avoiding looking at any of the teens along the way to his locker.  
  
He was just getting out his English book when he felt a warm hand slide into his. He turned around and was instantly swept into a hug.  
  
"Hey," Andie said into his shoulder, and he moved back from her slightly.  
  
As one they glanced around the hallway at the clusters of still watching and whispering kids. Pacey caught sight of the same cheerleader from before with some friends. She was watching him too, and he couldn't stand it anymore.  
  
He was about to pull out of Andie's arms completely and do whoever knows what, when her lips touched his. Her kiss was filled with sympathy and tenderness…  
  
But the emotion he felt the most was understanding.  
  
---  
  
The next few days seemed to run together in Pacey's mind.  
  
The funeral loomed ever closer, and he spent as much time as possible at the McPhee's. His father sent some men from the station to clean out Doug's apartment, and when Pacey came home one evening, he found an assortment of things on his bed.  
  
"They're your brothers," John responded when Pacey inquired about them. "Didn't want 'em, but your mother didn't want to cell 'em. Keep 'em in your room and if they get ruined…"  
  
He left his sentence hanging in the air, and left Pacey staring at his brother's belongings, looking as though he were almost afraid to touch them.  
  
The funeral was set for Wednesday morning, while everyone was in school. Andie felt terrible and offered to cut class in order to go with him, which showed just how much she cared for Pacey, but he refused. She gave him an extra long hug as they said goodbye on Tuesday night, and a part of him wanted to say he'd changed his mind and beg her to go.  
  
"If you change your mind…" she said, as though reading his thoughts.  
  
"No. See ya tomorrow, McPhee." He was firm but couldn't resist giving her an extra good night kiss or two.  
  
"Bye…" She could sense his mood and he knew it, but she didn't say anything and for that he was grateful.  
  
---  
  
It was over. The funeral was over but it felt like the grieving had only just begun.  
  
Why on earth was the sun so bright? The birds so happy? It was always raining at funerals on TV… why couldn't it be the same in reality?  
  
The party was breaking up. It had been a graveside service, and the headstone, as well as the freshly dug dirt around it were covered with fresh flowers of all kinds.  
  
There was a luncheon of some kind back at his house, but he couldn't bring himself to go. He'd brought his books with him in case he wanted to go to school and at least get to have lunch with Andie and the rest of his friends, but he just couldn't bring himself to move.  
  
He stood alone in the cemetery, staring at Doug's grave, the inscription on the headstone blocked off by flowers.  
  
Why, why had it been Doug?  
  
Why couldn't it have been someone else in his family? Anyone else? Well, not anyone else. Not Gretchen…  
  
An abrupt snapping of a twig made him jump. He turned quickly, but found his vision blurred. He hadn't even realized he'd started crying, but hoped fervently that whomever was nearby didn't know him.  
  
"Hey, Pace."  
  
Just his luck. What on earth was Jen doing here?  
  
"What…"  
  
She came to stand beside him, reaching out as though to hug him but he moved away.  
  
"I forgot my notebook at home and saw all the cars leaving so decided to see if you were still here." There was an awkward pause and then, "you-you want to talk about it?"  
  
He shook his head. If he spoke he knew his voice would break and the tears would never stop then.  
  
"Okay," she said softly, and stepped closer.  
  
"Y-you should go," he whispered after a lengthy pause.  
  
She nodded, but didn't move. She placed a consolatory hand on his shoulder, and he felt the tears coming faster.  
  
"Pace…" either she'd finally noticed or just now chose to say something. Her arm came around his shoulders and he wanted to move away but couldn't. He struggled against the tears, yet they came anyway, faster and faster, like an endless waterfall of despair.  
  
"C'mere - c'mere." Jen's other arm came up and she embraced him fully. His face fell into her hair and after a pause he returned the hug, crying silently yet unable to stop.  
  
"Shh… it's okay. Shh… it's okay… tsokay, Pace... shh." She murmured against his shoulder, feeling tears falling into her hair.  
  
Slowly, he drew away. He hated anyone seeing him like this, but especially one of his close friends.  
  
He'd never known Jen was so perceptive, so her words took him slightly be surprise.  
  
"You wanna come back to school with me?" Her voice was soft, filled with a tentative concern and uncertainty as though she was afraid that this would be the wrong thing to suggest.  
  
He hesitated, and then nodded. Maybe familiar actions would help him forget help the pain lessen some.  
  
---  
  
Andie was halfway through her lunch when she saw Jen walking towards herself, Jack, and Joey's table, someone just behind her.  
  
"Hey," she greeted, nibbling absently on an apple.  
  
"Look who I found," Jen said as she sat down next to Jack, revealing the other person with her.  
  
"Pacey," Andie said in surprise motioning him to sit down next to her.  
  
"Hey, McPhee." He greeted the others and Andie felt his hand take hers under the table. She squeezed his fingers tightly, hating the look in his eyes, the unsteadiness of his breathing and wanting to do something, anything to take them away.  
  
Dawson came over and greeted Pacey, before starting a conversation with Jack and Jen. Andie glanced at her lunch and was suddenly not hungry. Shoving her fruit over to Pacey, she opened her mouth to ask how the funeral had gone but at the look on his face decided not to.  
  
Instead, she just sat holding his hand and picking at her food, watching as Pacey did the same with her apples.  
  
---  
  
Pacey got home around seven that evening. He tried to avoid the kitchen but was unable to. His father sat alone once again at the table, the room filled with flowers and food. He was eating some of he left over that the guests had brought and drinking a beer.  
  
"Where ya been?" His voice made Pacey jump, but he wouldn't let his father know that simply his voice had such an effect on him. He looked the older man straight in the eye, and said in what he hoped was a bold voice,  
  
"Nowhere."  
  
The look in John Witter's eyes made Pacey's insides turn to ice. He raised form the table, and Pacey had no doubt that he would have punched him if it weren't for the entrance of Gretchen.  
  
"Hey, Pace," she said in forced casualness, as though she knew what was going on. "Hi, Dad."  
  
"Gretchen," John said stiffly, and returned to the table giving Pacey a hard glare.  
  
Gretchen motioned for Pacey to follow her, and they walked up to his room.  
  
"How'd you know-" Pacey started, but Gretchen cut him off.  
  
"When dad's this angry, he'll hurt almost anyone," she said quietly. "Where have you been all day?"  
  
"I was with my girlfriend," Pacey said, and Gretchen caught sight of a picture on his nightstand. From her place on the bed she reached out and picked it up, studying it carefully.  
  
It was of Pacey and Andie on their three-month anniversary. Andie was holding a bouquet of white roses, being held together by the trunk of a stuffed elephant, which rested in a basket filled with chocolates while Pacey was holding his unopened present, which had turned out to be chocolates as well.  
  
His arm as around her shoulders while hers was around his waist. They were both smiling as though they didn't have a care in the world, and just looking at the picture and remembering that night made Pacey's spirits lift slightly.  
  
"That her?" Gretchen asked, a smile touching her lips.  
  
"Yeah," Pacey nodded, tone slightly lighter.  
  
There was a pause, and then Gretchen kissed him on the cheek and got up. "Night, Pace."  
  
"Night, Gretch." Then she was gone and Pacey lay back on his bed, closing his eyes without even getting undressed or getting under the covers. He lifted the picture of Andie and himself and placed it on the pillow next to him, stroking her face idly with the tip of his finger.  
  
"Night, Andie," he whispered, feeling at peace for the first time that day. She hadn't asked him to explain anything, hadn't asked how the funeral had gone. She had simply stayed with him, trying to act normal but still seeming concerned. And for the first time, it didn't bother him. It felt good to know that she was worried; felt good to know she cared.  
  
He fell asleep clutching the picture, smiling slightly. For the moment his father's cruel words and actions were forgotten. For the moment, the loss of his brother did not seem quite as painful.  
  
For the moment.  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
I'm so sorry for the long wait… major writers block and I was concentrating solely on my Smallville fic. I just finished that, so aside form one shots, this is my main priority at the moment. I'm sorry this part was so slow… there will be both more romance and drama in the next. Oh, and the scene with Jen was originally going to be with Gretchen but I was in a Jen mood that day, so that's why I changed things slightly. If it seems really out of place, tell me and I'll revise this.  
  
Review please, and expect the next part in a couple of weeks… start threatening me if it doesn't appear, okay? Okay.  
  
Lala 


	4. Part 4: Losing Grip

Part 4: Losing Grip  
  
Author's Notes: No, your eyes do not deceived you, this is an actual update. Sort of a filler chapter, and very short, but it's an update. I promise another one will come soon, certainly less than 4 months from now. I've just been caught up in new episodes of Smallville and One Tree Hill, and have had writers block in general, so that's why I haven't updated. I'm very sorry. I hope you enjoy this update, and sorry for the shortness.  
  
---  
  
Andie ran a brush through her damp curls one Thursday evening. It had been about two weeks since Doug's death, and things slowly seemed to be calming down. Pacey wasn't his usual self just yet, but she saw the hopeless look slowly leaving his eyes, saw him smiling more often. These were good signs.  
  
Heading downstairs, clad in pajamas, she opened the fridge and pulled out the milk. Pouring herself a glass, she settled herself down in the living room to watch some TV before heading off to bed.  
  
Jack and Joey entered just then, more or less making out. She rolled her eyes and cleared her throat, causing them to break apart.  
  
"Uhh… Hey Andie!" Jack said, flustered. Joey blushed, and Andie grinned.  
  
"I'll just leave you two alone," she said and headed back upstairs. Slipping into bed, she picked up the book she'd just started reading, and opened it to the second chapter.  
  
She became so absorbed in her reading she missed the figure lurking outside her window.  
  
---  
  
Pacey turned another page in the family photo album. A bittersweet smile crossed his face as he looked at a picture of him and Doug, Pacey clad in handcuffs, a plastic gun in Doug's hand.  
  
Ironically, that was how things had turned out, Pacey reflected sadly. Doug was perfect, standing for everything right according to his father.  
  
And Pacey… Pacey was the loser headed for trouble no matter what he said or did.  
  
He turned another page, settling on a picture of himself, Doug, and Gretchen, the day before she started her senior year of high school. She had her arm around Pacey's shoulders, and Doug had his arm around her. Pacey was grinning widely, proudly holding his brother's proudly earned police badge in his hand for the camera to see.  
  
Page after page of Witter family pictures stared back at him, until Pacey reached a part of the book he'd never seen before and didn't remember being in any of the pictures. Just before he was about to close the book, a picture caught his eye and he froze.  
  
It was of a boy, who couldn't be more than about ten, holding a newborn baby. Pacey wasn't sure, but the boy looked a lot like Doug. He squinted at the child in his smiling brother's arms, trying to figure out who it was…  
  
And then it hit him.  
  
It was Pacey himself.  
  
It was as though all his pain came back to hit him. Doug and him had been closer when he was younger he knew, but the look on his brother's face… The joy, the wonderment, the love…  
  
The love for him… Just made him miss Doug all the more.  
  
He wanted to cry, but was unable. There were no tears left; they had been spent that first week, either while he'd been alone or with Andie, and on the day of his brother's funeral, Jen Lindly.  
  
He pushed the book away from him, not wanting to see his brother's face anymore, but the image nevertheless burned into his mind.  
  
Leaping to his feet he grabbed the book and shoved it back under his bed, where all of Doug's belongings were kept. He ran from the room, seeking fresh air and escape.  
  
But his house provided neither of these. He could hear his father in the kitchen, yelling at someone over the phone. He had no idea where his mother was… she had drawn in on herself, distancing herself from almost everyone in their family.  
  
Pacey slipped quietly out the front door, breathing deeply. It had rained earlier in the day, and the air still held the remnants of it. It smelled fresh and felt clean and purifying on his face.  
  
He wished it would purify his soul.  
  
He hadn't meant to walk to the McPhee's, but had. The rain started up again, harder than it had been earlier that evening. He stood near the house, straining his eyes for a glimpse of her, of his savior.  
  
But he got none. Her room was dark save for a small light, curtains obscuring any further view of her room.  
  
The rain was like ice, but it was nothing to his inner turmoil.  
  
He wanted to tell someone what he had seen, he needed release.  
  
But it wouldn't come.  
  
It would never come.  
  
He didn't know how long he stood out there; the rain was lost to him. He didn't feel the wind on his back, didn't feel the water soaking his skin.  
  
Finally, shear exhaustion drew him home. Sleep came but it brought no peace.  
  
Nothing could ever give him peace.  
  
His life was agony. 


	5. Part 5: Subtle Destruction

Part 5: Subtle Destruction  
  
Less than five minutes before the bell that signaled the start of class the next morning, Pacey ran down the hall. He didn't remember going home last night, and he certainly didn't remember his alarm going off this morning. Making it to his locker he struggled with the combination and catching his breath all at once.  
  
Finally, he succeeded in getting his locker open. Now, which class did he have first today? English – no, that was third… his locker was a mess. He pushed aside some old assignments, searching for his book report that he knew he'd printed out the other day. Not on that shelf… he knocked a stack of papers and books to the floor.  
  
Swearing, he bent over and tried to continue searching the lower shelf of his locker while retrieving his scattered papers. He didn't want his grades lying around for the world to see.  
  
"Interesting insight and well researched. A fine improvement."  
  
It was too late. Jen had appeared behind him, and grabbed one of his reports that had been slightly out of his reach. "B Minus, not bad. That paper was a killer."  
  
She dropped to her knees beside him, and began gathering up the rest of his papers. "Whatcha looking for?"  
  
"Book report," he answered tersely. He swore and slammed a fist against the side of his locker. "That's just great."  
  
He snatched the papers and books from Jen, threw them inside, slammed the door then reopened it. "Still can't remember what stupid class we've got first this morning…"  
  
"History," Jen supplied.  
  
"That's the homework I forgot to do!" This was just not his day.  
  
"Are you okay?" Jen asked it tentatively, watching him shoving books and binders aside once again.  
  
"Spectacular," he replied.  
  
"Hey, you're not looking for this?" The bell rang as Andie joined the two, holding out something to Pacey. He turned, having given up on finding his History book, and looked at what his girlfriend was holding. "You left it at my house."  
  
"Thank you!" The paper and her books spilled to the ground as he grabbed her, lifting her from the floor and kissing her quickly. She smiled, but her eyes showed concern.  
  
"You don't look so good," she observed as he released her.  
  
"I'm fine, now." He kissed her on the forehead, picked up his paper, and turned to go.  
  
"Your locker," Jen reminded him.  
  
He sighed, turned back, and closed the door.  
  
Or tried to.  
  
"How do you fit anything in there?" Andie asked lightly.  
  
"I dunno," he said absently, grabbing a book at random and closing the door.  
  
"You left your History book at my house, too," Andie told him.  
  
"What would I do without you?" His tone was light but his words were sincere.  
  
Andie handed him his History book and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you next period," she said, hurrying off.  
  
---  
  
Lunch looked less appealing than usual. Pacey pushed the food around on his tray, disgusted by the mere thought of eating it.  
  
He'd thought the morning would never end. His head had started hurting somewhere during his first class, and he was developing a terrible cough. He knew he shouldn't have stood out in the rain so long last night...  
  
"Do you think cafeterias anywhere serve edible food? Maybe in Japan or something." Dawson and Jack joined Pacey at the table. He attempted a smile at Dawson's comment, but remained silent.  
  
"Are you feeling all right?" Jack inquired, taking in his friend's complexion.  
  
"Living," he mumbled.  
  
"Hey guys!" He wondered how on earth his girlfriend could always seem so perky.  
  
"Hi, McPhee." He sounded terrible even to himself.  
  
"Are you feeling all right?" She unknowingly echoed her brother's statement as she sat down beside him.  
  
He didn't bother answering; she could tell if he was lying anyway. Her cool hand pressed against his forehead and he sighed aloud.  
  
"You feel a little warm," she murmured.  
  
"I'll be fine." She gave him a look but must've sensed he was near the breaking point because she didn't press it. He caught her looking over at him a lot though for the rest of lunch. Normally he would've made some remark about it but he just didn't have the energy.  
  
---  
  
He was going to pass out from exhaustion. It was... sometime during the afternoon. Everything and everywhere and anyone were a blur. He vaguely knew that he was in school, either that or some kind of never ending torture. His head pounded and his eyelids drooped. The teacher's constant drone didn't help any.  
  
An elbow to the ribs made him jump sometime later. His head snapped up from where it'd been about to hit the desk.  
  
"As much as I love watching you suffer, something told me hitting that desk wouldn't be very pleasant." He gave Joey a look that he'd meant to be a scowl but somehow Pacey doubted it came out right.  
  
"Thanks," he muttered.  
  
His head was precariously close to smacking the desk once again when the bell rang. He jumped and nearly fell out of his chair. Joey smirked at him, but was happy that Pacey didn't appear awake enough to catch the concern in her eyes.  
  
Pacey gathered his books and walked groggily out into the hallway. What class did he have next? What time was it? Where was he, anyway?  
  
He looked around the corridor, wishing the chattering students would shut up, even for a second.  
  
He turned a corner and tried to concentrate on walking to his locker. His head throbbed. He wanted to curl up right here on the floor and sleep forever. Could one night with little sleep really do this much damage to you?  
  
"Pacey!" He turned in surprise and nearly dropped his books.  
  
"Hey." Andie came to walk beside him. He was glad; maybe she could remind him where his locker was.  
  
"Hey, you want a ride home?" Regardless of what he said she was giving him one. He was looking disoriented and quite pale up close.  
  
"Sure, if you don't mind." If she was talking about rides home, that must mean the day was finally over. He would have jumped for joy if he had the strength.  
  
She patted his arm. "No problem – Pacey?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Your locker's that way."  
  
"Oh. Right."  
  
---  
  
"We're here," Andie announced as she pulled to a stop in front of Pacey's house.  
  
She got no response.  
  
"Pacey?" She looked over at him finally, only to discover that he'd fallen asleep. He was slumped against the window, and he didn't appear to have heard her.  
  
Andie watched him for a moment and made a decision. She didn't have the heart to wake him and watch Pacey walk into a house to find a family that seemed incapable of feeling emotion.  
  
She pulled back out of his driveway, and headed for her house instead. It was pretty empty itself, but at least he'd be with her. She'd make sure he was loved.  
  
Author's Notes:  
If I still have any readers... I am so sorry for the extremely long wait. I'm going to update this more regularly, I swear. I know I say this every part, but I'm going to try and stick to it this time. I know this was kind of a filler part, but the action is coming. And maybe some angst for P/A, since I cannot write Andie to save my life.  
  
If anyone's interested in betaing, say so in a review. Speaking of betaing, Thanks goes to Laura for emergency betaing of this part. Let's say if I can go for the rest of this without saying the word beta, shall we?  
  
If anyone has any suggestions/requests/death threats, feel free to leave them along with any other comments you might have. Flames are welcome, my ego will be sad though.  
  
I promise to update this soon, and thanks so much for sticking with it. 


End file.
